


Top Of The World

by elphabachan



Category: True Blood
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-02
Updated: 2012-08-02
Packaged: 2017-11-11 07:22:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/476035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elphabachan/pseuds/elphabachan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Newlin is used to being in complete control of his life and other people, but can't stop thinking of the man who takes that control away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Top Of The World

**Author's Note:**

> Just a brief character study of Steve Newlin, Gay Vampire American. I guess it takes place sometime before he meets Russell.
> 
> The title of this is from a Dixie Chicks song.
> 
> And I certainly don't own any of these characters. They belong to Ms. Harris and HBO.

When he had initially done it, Steve Newlin had been surprised at how natural it was for him to sink his face between a man’s legs. Because really, when he was alive the thought would have sent self-loathing and disgusted nausea through his body. How could he even THINK such a thing? Normal people didn’t have such thoughts.

But now that he was dead, it was one of his very favorite places to be. He ran his teeth along the soft skin of the fangbanger’s inner thigh, sensing the quickening pulse and shivering because of it. Being in a position of power had once again shown off all of it’s benefits, and THIS time he enjoyed them quite a bit more. It only helped that this particular fangbanger was blonde and fit, and not terribly bright to boot. Just his type.

The man (Jake was it? Steve didn’t remember, it didn’t really matter after all) whimpered as the brunette moved his mouth across the light hairs, and the sound made the vampire all the more aroused with power and longing. Power and a hot man, things that Steve had always loved, even if the latter had come as a surprise.

Perhaps he should have realized it when he’d never really felt the sinful lust in his heart for Sarah when he met her in college. Yes, he’d enjoyed her company, and her morals, and the fact she could fire a gun just as well as he could. Not to mention the fact she was a picture perfect conservative-Christian woman, the kind his father had always wanted for him. But he’d felt, deep down, that there was a piece missing from her and him. He thought it may go away with time, but the void actually grew.

He’d throw himself into the church, as he really did enjoy it. He liked orating, and firing people up for the Lord. It was something he was GOOD at, and having that natural born talent was something that could distract him from everything else. He didn’t have to think about the marriage that went nearly sexless after six months, or the fact that his father married a woman half his age and had a child with her, or that he had impure thoughts in the middle of the night. Thoughts about men. Thoughts that would ruin a fine set of sheets if his dreams got away from him.

Throwing himself into the Fellowship after his father’s death seemed to be the only way he could keep going. He needed to escape that small, vindictive part of him that was gleeful that his father was gone. Gleeful partly because of the newfound power it gave him. But also because of the inferiority complex the bitter and venomous old man gave his first born. Becoming the leader of all those ardent sheep in a thriving flock was the best thing to ever happen to Steve Newlin. With authority attached to his name and his wife by his side, he was on the top of the world.

And then he met Jason Stackhouse, and that world toppled.

Jason was charismatic, nearly as charismatic as Steve, and easy to talk to, and good LORD was he easy to influence. Steve tried to tell himself it was because of that that he’d taken such a shine to him. But when that shirt came off at the football game, all bets were off for the young reverend. The dreams came back, so doggedly Steve would wake up with a throbbing crotch and a shortness of breath. When this would happen he’d wake Sarah up and have hard, animalistic sex with her. One night he made her lie on her stomach and took her from behind, moaning in pleasure and guilt as he imagined her hips narrower, skin rougher….

Once he’d had the best orgasm of his life, he’d yanked himself out of his satisfied (albeit confused) wife and run for the bathroom. He’d turned on the shower, and promptly vomited into the toilet before nearly scalding himself under the torrent in an attempt to get clean, fully clean. He’d promised himself ‘never again’. Never again would he think of Jason Stackhouse while making love to Sarah.

Though he thought of Jason while he had wet dreams, something he’d thought he’d left behind in his youth.

And thought of Jason while in the shower, and his soapy hand dropped low and explored.

And definitely thought of Jason while he shamefacedly crawled under the covers and fingered himself as Sarah showered and went about her daily beauty regimens, blissfully unaware of what Steve was doing. It was all so humiliating for the reverend. And yet he kept doing it until the day he died. It was in death that Steve Newlin had found pride instead of humiliation.

Becoming a vampire had foolishly bolstered his confidence that perhaps Jason would return such feelings. He’d built up in his mind that the two of them would work, that Jason really did love him back, and that after everything Steve had been through he DESERVED that love. Was entitled to that love. After all, he was Steve Newlin; he grew up entitled to everything he wanted. His father had said so, and his father had been a messenger of God.

But once again, it hadn’t gone as planned. Realizing Jason didn’t love him, that he couldn’t MAKE Jason love him, or buy his love from him, Steve came to an inescapable conclusion: What good is power if you can’t use it to get what you really, truly want?

So he stayed out of the coffin but slinked back into the closet. He found new minds to mold and manipulate with his charisma, the one thing he was good at. Found new popularity with the media. Hell, he’d even found blonde male fangbangers he could keep for himself, so he could at LEAST pretend that he was getting fucked by Jason Stackhouse.

He finally sank his teeth into the man beneath him, jaw breaking the delicate skin of his inner thigh. The man (Jake, it was Jake, he remembered) moaned out, head tipping back as he gripped Steve’s shoulders roughly. Steve’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, fantasizing it was Jason he was drinking from, that it was JASON who was moaning for HIM and only him.

He drank until he felt his plaything weakening, and reluctantly pulled away with a huff. Blood steamed down the corners of his lips and dribbled down his chin, and he crawled on top of a dazed and noticeably hard Jake.

“God bless fangbangers,” he purred, lowering himself onto Jake and letting himself keep on fantasizing. After a life of doing it so often, he had become a true pro.


End file.
